


back to december

by groove_bunker



Series: Please Ignore the Pronouns [fanmix fic] [11]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groove_bunker/pseuds/groove_bunker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knows that you run from anything that’s scary and when you ran from your wedding, you came straight back here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	back to december

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shadowcrawler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcrawler/gifts).



You’re not sure why you’re back in Univille.

You’ve left your fiancée behind, your friends, everything back in Boston. You needed some space, some time out of the city. But now you’re here, you feel alone, like there’s too much space to think about all that you left behind here.

_Helena._

You wish you could see her but she’s in Cambridge, in England, making a life for herself there. You don’t even know if she knows about the wedding, but you think it’s unlikely that someone hasn’t told her. They know she’s a touchy subject; they tend to not mention her.

You find yourself walking past the house she lived in with her parents what feels like ten years ago. There’s a light on in the front room and for a moment, you think you see Helena curled up in a window seat reading a book, but when you look back, she’s gone. Your mind is playing tricks on you. You go to walk up the block.

“Knocking is normally better than staring across the street.”

She’s standing in the doorway, book in hand. She’s smiling at you, a proper smile, the first time you’ve seen her smile properly in forever.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

You opt to sit in the sitting room, rather than her bedroom, because you don’t think you can deal with the overload of memories that are likely to come from that. Helena comes in with two steaming mugs of tea and sets them on the table. The smile still hasn’t shifted from her face and you wonder why she’s this happy to see you.

“What are you doing here? I thought you’d be in England”

“Christmas holidays start early in England, came back to stay with my aunt and uncle for Christmas. What are you doing here? Aren’t you getting married next week?”

Since you’d started planning the wedding, you couldn’t shut up about it. You asked the barista who gave you your coffee every morning whether she thought anemones were better than delphiniums for your bouquet. Claudia, your maid of honour, is actually sick of looking at place settings and has hidden your wedding magazines and the carefully constructed wedding folder that Sara had entrusted you with.

So why do you clam up the minute that Helena mentions it?

“Yeah, I needed to get some space, get out of the city.”

“And there’s no space on the East Coast?”

You suddenly don’t like her smile because you’ve figured it out. She’s not happy to see you, she’s happy that you’re home, away from Boston. Because Boston is your life, the life you’ve made with Sara, but here means the two of you, it means high school and feelings the two of you never really dared to speak. She knows that you run from anything that’s scary and when you ran from your wedding, you came straight back here.

She still knows you better than anyone.

“How are Pete and Claudia?”

“They’re fine, they’re doing well. How’s Cambridge?”

“Hard work, I’ve been kept busy but I love it.”

The small talk is painful but you still don’t know if you can apologise without her shooting it down, like the last time you’d tried. You miss when you didn’t need to fill the silences, when you could just lay in your back yard at night and watch the stars. You remember her telling you that she didn’t know what she’d do without you.

You wonder how she’s managed since.

You don’t build up the courage to say something until you’re at the door, wrapping yourself in Sara’s scarf. Her perfume suddenly makes you feel sick and you shove it in your bag instead. The words tumble out and you have no control over them anymore. You should never have tried to keep so much control over them in the first place.

“I’m sorry, Helena, for running when what we had could have been so good. I’m sorry for not trying hard enough to apologise when I came home. I’m sorry for letting you go to England without asking you to stay. I’m...so sorry. About everything.”

She pulls you into her arms and whispers words into your ear, words you haven’t heard in a long time and suddenly you’re back in your high school gym, the day before you told her you couldn’t do this anymore, you’re back dancing with her and she’s telling you she loves you and you’re too scared to say it back and she knows but she doesn’t mind.

Because she knows you’re hers.

You’ll always be hers. 


End file.
